


Wouldn't It Be Nice?

by aibidil



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, F/M, Frottage, HP: EWE, M/M, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Minor Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley, Oral Sex, Post-Eighth Year, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 02:13:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11117745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aibidil/pseuds/aibidil
Summary: Harry and Draco have had a thing for a month now, and they keep getting interrupted. Have they been cursed, or is it just a normal case of teenagers getting interrupted by adults, shared living spaces, and...sentient castles?





	Wouldn't It Be Nice?

**Author's Note:**

> This ficlet is a bit fluffier than what I usually want to write about Harry and Draco, but it came out of reminiscing about what it's like to be 17-22ish and trying to find time and space with a partner sans interruptions. It's hard to be a teenager. Poor Harry and Draco, and Ron and Hermione. Come find me at [Tumblr](https://aibidil.tumblr.com).

Harry’s hands reached eagerly under Draco’s shirt, pushing it up to expose pale skin. “Mmmm, finally,” Draco said, pulling Harry’s mouth towards his own. Draco plunged his fingers into Harry’s messy hair, tugging at it lightly—

 _Knock, knock, knock._ “Boys! Are you in there? I need you to get the tables set up outside for dinner, please!”

Harry flopped onto his back with a groan as Molly Weasley’s footsteps echoed down the stairs.

“Potter,” Draco drawled, still out of breath, “I know my inability to kill Dumbledore was one of the things that convinced you to like me, but I swear to Salazar I will murder someone if this keeps happening.”

Harry let out a breathless laugh and smacked his hand on Draco’s chest. “Fuck,” Harry grumbled.

Draco sat up and put his head in his hands, his blond hair obscuring his fingers. “Let’s go put up some tables, mate.”

Harry groaned. “Don’t call me mate—that is just too weird.”

“Well Molly’s trying to make sure that’s what we are, right? Mates?” And with that Draco stood up and walked to the door. Over his shoulder he hit Harry with a charm to get rid of his erection.

“Hey!” Harry called. “A little warning!”

* * *

Eighth year at Hogwarts had been over for one week. Draco and Harry’s months of sexual tension had turned into an actual _thing_ about a month ago.

The problem was that the Weasleys, the Slytherins, the Gryffindors, N.E.W.T.s, Madam Pince, and even Hogwarts itself had been conspiring to keep them from enjoying each other’s company. Blaise and Pansy had wanted to spend every moment with Draco, and the Gryffindors had wanted to spend every moment with Harry, before the end of their Hogwarts careers. There was studying for and taking N.E.W.T.s, which couldn’t be ignored because scores would determine next year’s plans and their careers. 

Even the sentient common rooms prevented their trysts. The Fat Lady, still traumatized from the Sirius Black break-in and the events of the war, had absolutely refused to let in any non-Gryffindors. If a Gryffindor tried to open the portrait for a non-Gryffindor, she would swing closed like a guillotine. They’d tried to sneak Draco in under the invisibility cloak, but the Fat Lady closed the portrait so fast that they’d never managed. They tried to use the invisibility cloak together, but the Fat Lady had screamed, alerting Headmistress McGonagall, when an invisible voice provided the password. That had been awkward.

The Slytherin dungeon’s entrance had been given extra fortification at the beginning of the year after some adventurous Ravenclaws tried to sneak in to “teach those snakes a lesson.” Since then, the entrance to the dungeon would not appear if it sensed the presence of a non-Slytherin. Harry had tried pleading with the blank wall, explaining that he had almost been sorted Slytherin, that he was the Chosen One, but the wall was unyielding.

They’d been interrupted by Madam Pince in the library (three times before they gave that up as a bad job), Professor Sprout in the greenhouse, Filch in four different alcoves, and a supremely unamused Headmistress McGonagall in the Transfiguration classroom. They’d been interrupted in the Quidditch locker room, on the Astronomy Tower (both during the day and at night by an entire third-year Astronomy class), and in the prefect’s bathroom (three separate times, by Ron, Hannah Abbott, and Padma Patil, respectively). In a fit of desperation, they’d even tried the first-floor girls lavatory only to discover, after minutes of heating snogging, that Myrtle was attempting to join in.

The Room of Requirement had not opened since the battle.

If there’d been more time, Harry and Draco surely would’ve figured out a place to rendezvous. But as it was, they had only gotten together three weeks before the end of term. Ultimately and reluctantly, they gave up. 

“Don’t worry,” Harry had said, “Only one more week of term, and then we can be together all summer.”

* * *

Draco walked down the Burrow stairs, hands in pockets; Harry thundered down after him. Molly looked up when they entered the kitchen, a big smile on her face. Harry’s annoyance disappeared at the sight of her. 

“How can we help, Molly?” Harry asked.

“Can you boys get the tables out of the shed and set them up outside for dinner? We’re having quite a crowd tonight. George, Bill, Fleur, Andromeda, and Teddy will be here soon.” She bustled about the kitchen, preparing food and looking elated to have a crowd home.

Harry walked up to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Anything for you,” he said, smiling, and pressed a kiss to her head. 

She wiped her hands on her apron and pulled him into a hug. “I’m so happy you’re here. Both of you.” She looked up at Draco.

Draco smiled. “We’re glad to be here.”  

Harry led the way outside. Draco pinched his arse as they left the house.

“In all honesty,” Draco drawled, “I am going to use a blood magic ritual to ensure that we’re the only ones who can get into that tiny bathroom, and then we’re going to ravish each other in the loo.”

“There are a lot of people in this house,” Harry said with a smile, “I think they’ll be a little miffed if they can no longer access their one bathroom.”

“I am past caring,” Draco said with an imperious air. He walked up behind Harry and wrapped his arm around Harry’s waist. “It’s like we’ve been cursed.”

Harry stiffened. “Merlin, you don’t think we could _actually_ have been cursed?”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “What curse do you think that would be? The infamous Cockblock Curse?”

“Draco, Voldemort was _evil._ Your father was _evil._ If either of them had suspected this—they may very well have cursed one or both of us! We should try to get it on with someone else to test it! What if it’s just a homosexuality banning curse! What if it only prevents the two of us from doing anything together?”

Draco tried to suppress a smile. “I really do not think we’ve been cursed. Why would Voldemort or my father have even _thought_ to curse us like that?”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “Hmmm, let me see. Because you were supposed to be a Death Eater and it would be unseemly for you to bang the Chosen One? Or because you’re the heir to a family fortune and your preferred method of sexual relations could never produce an heir? Or just plain homophobia, or spite?”

Draco held up his hands. “Calm down. I was joking. I don’t think we’re cursed.” He leaned forward, capturing Harry’s lips, grabbing Harry’s cheeks with his hands, and reveling in the feeling of tongue on tongue. Draco pulled away. “See? I can do that. Not cursed. And if you so much as _suggest_ a trial sexual encounter with Ginny—or any woman!—I will hex your balls right off, and where would we be then?”

Harry laughed and wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist, pulling him flush against Harry’s chest.

“Hello, boys! Oh!” Arthur Weasley appeared around the side of the house.

Harry dropped his forehead to Draco’s chest, groaning. “Cursed,” he whispered.

“Hello, Mr Weasley,” Draco said politely, elbowing Harry to stand tall.

“Let’s get these tables up,” Harry muttered.

* * *

The recent Hogwarts graduates were eagerly awaiting their N.E.W.T. scores. They were all provisionally accepted into programs: Draco to a Potions Mastery; Harry and Ron to Auror Training; Hermione to Magical Law. Ginny was at the Burrow for another week before the start of training with the Holyhead Harpies.

Staying at the Burrow long-term was not an option; it was causing tension for everyone involved. But they couldn’t move yet, because it wasn’t certain where they’d be going. Auror Training was in London; Magical Law was in Manchester; the Potions Mastery was in Oxford. Ron and Hermione wanted to live together. If Ron didn’t get the N.E.W.T scores, they would live in Manchester; if Ron did, they had to decide where to live and who would commute. Harry and Draco had no idea what they wanted to do. Two months ago, Harry had been planning to share a flat with Hermione and Ron, but now….

Harry and Draco had flirted with the idea of staying at Grimmauld Place for the interim. Harry didn’t want to; the place had too many memories. Thinking of Sirius still hurt, and the last time he was there he was on the run in the war; Ron had been splinched. As Draco talked about it, Harry’s head filled with images of Yaxley and Bellatrix—and Sirius, dying. Harry felt his heart rate rising, his cheeks went numb. Draco froze, grabbed Harry’s face, and said, “Harry. You’re having a panic attack. Breathe. Breathe in.”

So. No Grimmauld Place.

No one even mentioned Malfoy Manor. No one wanted to visit it, much less live there—even Narcissa. Narcissa had asked Draco to come stay with her in Paris, but Harry didn’t want to go to France, and Draco wanted to be with Harry.

So they were at the Burrow. Molly, Arthur, Ron, Hermione, Harry, Draco, and Ginny. Draco had been given the twins’ old room, Hermione Bill and Charlie’s old room, and Harry and Ron were in the attic as usual. Molly had been insistent on keeping the couples apart. Arthur went along with her, but gave the four an apologetic shrug when she wasn’t looking.

“Merlin,” Ron said after their first night there, “it’s like she has a sixth sense about people being out of their rooms. What does she think is going to happen?”

Hermione laughed and said, “Well let’s see. First, she is a witch and probably _does_ have a “sixth sense” via a spell of some kind. Second, what does she think is going to happen? The woman has seven children. I think she has a very good sense of what could happen.”

Harry looked up grumpily. “Why do Draco and I have to be punished for your fertility?”

Ron smirked. “Fair’s fair, mate.”

* * *

After the dinner plates had been cleared from the table, everyone sat in the garden chatting well until after the sky turned dark. Andromeda sat next to Fleur, discussing Fleur’s pregnancy. Bill and George sat across from them, discussing the latest Quidditch match with Ginny. Ron and Hermione were helping Molly clean up.

Harry leaned into Draco’s firm shoulder. “Let’s go for a walk,” he whispered. 

Draco turned his head towards Harry slightly and smiled. “Ok,” he said, grabbing Harry’s leg and squeezing the muscle behind Harry’s kneecap.

“Ow, stop, you git!” Harry whispered, trying not to draw attention.

They stood. “We’re just going to go for a walk,” Harry said. “I, er, wanted to show Draco the orchard.”

Bill and George looked like they were about to tease, but Arthur intercepted them with a “Have fun, boys.”

When they were out of sight of the garden, Harry grabbed Draco’s hand. “I’ve been wanting to do this all day,” he said, pulling Draco into a deep kiss.

“Mmmhhphh,” Draco moaned as Harry pressed him up against a tree. “Would it be incredibly inappropriate to get naked here in the garden where anyone could walk up?”

Harry laughed. “Um, rather inappropriate, yes.” Their words were lost in a heated kiss that quickly had them tugging at each other’s shirt tails.

“Let’s,” Draco gasped, “ground,” through a kiss, “gravity.” 

Somehow Harry understood and they fell to the grass, Draco on his back and Harry on top of him. Draco groaned, “You feel so good.”

“Merlin,” Harry breathed, pressing his hips into Draco’s. “Ah!”

Draco reached up and fumbled with Harry’s jeans, managing to get them open just as a woman’s voice sounded, “Teddy!” 

Harry froze, burying his face in Draco’s shoulder. Draco’s warm, firm chest that felt so good. He pressed his lips to Draco’s collarbone—.

“Harry, stop! Shh!”

A tiny person with turquoise hair toddled into view. They just managed to get their pants refastened and their terrible, horrible erection-deflating spells cast before Andromeda wandered in after their smallest cockblocker to date.

* * *

That night, Harry lay in his bed in Ron’s room for an hour after Molly checked on them. 

“What’s your grand plan for getting out of here, Harry? You defeated Voldemort, surely we can get out of this room without triggering the alarm charm.”

Harry waved his wand at the door, sending out diagnostic charms intended to discover the presence of magic. “I can’t figure out what type she’s set. Can you make this out?”

Ron looked at the door. “It looks different than the wards we learned.”

“It’s not standard. Your mom is a pretty amazing witch, isn’t she?”

Ron smiled. “Well, yeah. That was cool when she was killing Bellatrix, but it’s not cool now.”

Harry cast a variation on his diagnostic spell. “I think it has to do with intent. I can’t take this ward off without triggering the alarm, and the alarm is set to only be dismantled from the outside.”

“You think the ward has to do with intent?”

“I think…it’s not a generalized ward. It’s not set to let no one through. It’s not set to only let certain people through.”

“So…” Ron thought. “If we really have to go to the bathroom, for example, it will let us through?”

“I think so!” said Harry.

“Aguamenti!” they both shouted, filling up their cups and chugging.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, after they visited the bathroom, Ron tiptoed to Hermione’s room and Harry went to Draco’s. He stopped outside the door and cast his charms again. There were no charms on the door.

“Draco,” Harry whispered. “Did you dismantle charms on your door?”

The door opened. Draco grabbed Harry and pulled him inside. “Yes, ages ago. What took you so long?”

“We couldn’t get the ward down! It was set to only let us out if we had an upstanding intent, so we each drank about a liter of water and got through by needing to go to the bathroom.”

Draco raised an eyebrow and laughed. “My door only had an alarm. I was able to remove it.”

“What the fuck?” Harry burst. “Does she think we’re less trustworthy than _you?”_

“Well, I think she’s probably more worried about Ron and Granger, like we discussed before, eh?”

“I’m here now,” Harry said, looking down at Draco. He was wearing nothing but a pair of black pajama bottoms, his chest pale and beautiful in the moonlight through the window.

“Merlin and Circe,” Draco breathed, “finally.” He pushed Harry to the bed and jumped on top of him. 

Beds were so nice. Beds were comfortable and not cramped. Beds didn’t poke or prod. Beds were so dignified. They weren’t filled with thistles or broom sticks or cranky librarians. They’d managed to get into bed with each other only a few times—earlier that day before the table chores, and the night before when they were interrupted by Molly’s demand that they get back to their own rooms.

Draco let the weight of his body press down on Harry’s, holding his head up by bracing his forearms. Draco pressed his lips onto Harry’s jaw, then down his neck, to his collarbone. Harry sucked in a breath of air and bit his lip. Draco grabbed the hem of Harry’s shirt and pulled it off him. Harry took off his glasses and threw them onto the table.

“You,” Draco said, “have been driving me crazy all day. You have no right to look this good.” Draco’s tongue found Harry’s nipple, circled it, and then Draco sucked.

“Ahhhgghh,” Harry moaned, “What about you? Walking around all day with those pants and your hair and that arse.”

Draco raised his mouth from Harry’s nipple and smirked. “Next time I’ll be sure to walk around without my arse.”

“You should Glamour it to be less enticing. It’s truly unfair to any person attracted to men.” Harry stopped talking because Draco’s fingers had replaced his mouth pinching Harry’s nipple, and Draco’s mouth was trailing lower.

Harry’s cock had been in Draco’s mouth once before, in a broom closet in the Charms corridor. For about one minute before Filch banged open the door. Thankfully Filch’s eyes had been on his cat, and not on Harry hastily tucking himself back in his pants.

“Merlin, yes, _please,”_ Harry begged.

 _Knock, knock._ “Harry?” Ron’s voice came from the door. He sounded apologetic.

“Oh my fucking god,” grumbled Harry. “What?” he called, louder.

“Hermione’s crying.”

“We are certainly not required to interfere in Granger’s unfortunate reaction to Weasley’s sexual ability,” Draco drawled quietly.

“Shh,” Harry smacked Draco. Louder, “What happened?”

“She’s worried about her parents. Can you come help? I’m sorry. You know how it is to calm her down when she gets like this.”

Harry propped himself up on his elbows and looked, apologetically, at Draco. “I have to go,” Harry said. “I don’t want to go.”

Draco sat up against the headboard, his lips pressed in a thin line. He raised his wand and cast.

Harry grabbed his groin. “Merlin, Malfoy, a little gentler next time, if you want it to continue working.”

Draco crossed his arms on his chest. 

* * *

At breakfast the next morning, Draco recited quietly, “The roof. The Quidditch field. The pub. The bookstore. Diagon Alley. Gringotts—in the carts? A Muggle subway? We could rent a car? In the dressing rooms at Malkins? On our brooms? We Vanish ourselves and hope we end up somewhere we can actually achieve orgasms?”

Harry looked at Draco, amused, as he ate his bacon. “I don’t think any of those places will work, you pillock.”

Ginny burst into the room and sat next to Harry, immediately starting a conversation about her latest Quidditch skill. She wanted their input and a chance to practice. 

“We’re not keepers or beaters, Gin,” Harry reminded her.

“No, you’re certainly not,” she said, disappointed, “but better than nothing. Anyway, I heard Mum saying she wants us to de-gnome the garden while Ron and Hermione are out researching memory modification reversals, so hurry out to play with me if you want to avoid it.”

Harry looked at Draco. Draco shrugged.

“Alright, let’s go.”

After two hours of Quidditch (Ginny hadn’t wanted to stop at all, but Draco put his foot down after she criticized his Keeper skills for the tenth time), they came back inside. Ginny managed to sneak upstairs to shower just before Molly handed Harry and Draco each a bucket of vegetables and instructions for preparing them. They carried their veggies to the back porch.

“You know what I’m going to do?” Draco asked. “I’m going to start making vegetable innuendo. That’s what I’ve been reduced to.”

Harry chuckled, pulling out a potato and his wand to try his hand at potato-peeling charms.

“That’s a nice cucumber, Mr Potter,” Draco drawled. “I’ve got a nice big cucumber at home for you.”

“Stop!” Harry laughed.

“I’m a watermelon,” Draco said. “Are you going to spit or swallow my seed?”

“Christ, Draco,” Harry laughed. He thought a minute. “Do you live in a corn field?” Harry asked. Draco only raised a brow. “Because I’m stalking you.”

“Oh Circe, Potter, that is so bad.” 

“I don’t think agricultural pick-up lines supposed to be _good_ , are they?”

“I don’t know. I think they work on me,” Draco smiled, and leaned over to give Harry a possessive kiss. Harry wrapped his fingers, moist with potato, around Draco’s neck and squeezed.

Just then Luna Apparated into the yard. “Harry! Draco!” she called. 

“Cursed,” Harry whispered. He looked up. “Hey Luna. Are you looking for Ginny? She went to shower after Quidditch.”

“Oh, lovely. I’ll just wait for her on her bed.” She floated inside.

Draco raised a brow. “If Molly lets Luna and Ginny get it on, and not us, I’m going to write three feet of parchment on the injustice of it.” Harry laughed.

“Harry!” Molly called from inside. Harry groaned. 

* * *

Ron and Hermione returned just before dinner, avoiding the long list of chores Molly had set Harry and Draco. Hermione, happily, was looking more optimistic about her parents and busied herself with tons of notes about memory spell reversal theory. 

“Where’s Ginny?” Ron asked.

“Out with Luna,” Harry replied.

“‘Mione,” Ron whispered, “throw me that stuff we bought.” Hermione rummaged in her bag and tossed Ron a potions vial.

Draco raised an eyebrow.

“Can’t talk about it now, mate. Just trust us,” Ron said enigmatically.

Draco looked at Harry, but Harry was clueless and only shrugged.

“Come to dinner!” Molly called. A wonderful-smelling steak and kidney pie sat on the table. 

Harry put his arm around Draco’s waist and squeezed him a bit as they took their seats at the table. “Smells amazing, Molly,” Harry smiled.

“Did you find any good information about the memory reversals at the library?” Arthur asked Hermione, gesturing for Molly to sit down.

Hermione responded, “Yes, actually. There hasn’t been much documentation on reversing Obliviations of Muggles. Most times, the subject is a wizard who has been accidentally or maliciously Obliviated. But I found a few descriptions of Obliviated Muggles who needed to be reversed. The good news is, it doesn’t seem much different than reversals in wizards. Of course, the bad news is that the success rate is bad even for wizards.”

Molly patted Hermione’s arm. “We’ll all do the best we can to help them.”

Hermione nodded with a small smile, but she looked a little pale.

“So how’s Fleur feeling today?” Ron asked, in a blatant attempt to steer the conversation to cheerier topics.

“Oh, I Flooed Bill around lunchtime and she’s feeling a bit better,” Molly said. “The magical ginger infusion is helping.”

Draco surreptitiously slid his hand under Harry’s arse as he asked, “Do Bill and Fleur know yet whether the baby is a boy or a girl?”

“Girl,” Molly smiled. 

Arthur raised his glass. “We love our boys and would never trade any of them, but we have so few girls! We’re excited!”

Draco smiled and inquired after Fleur’s due date. All the while, he kept fondling Harry, both with his hand and his foot.

Harry, as a result, almost choked on his beans. He reached his hand over and pinched Draco’s thigh— _hard_ _—_ in a manner that he hoped Draco would recognize as an order to cease.

Draco, under the pretense of reaching for the butter, whispered into Harry’s ear, “Kinky, Potter.”

Hermione watched them with thinly veiled amusement, but no one else seemed to notice their shenanigans.

When everyone had finished their meals, Ron announced, “Mum, Hermione and I made pudding to thank you for all of this wonderful food and for letting us stay here. Don’t get up! We’re going to serve you.” Hermione stood and followed Ron into the pantry.

Draco looked at Harry, but Harry shrugged. It seemed they were both in the dark about Ron and Hermione’s plans.

Ron carried in an impressive trifle and Hermione followed with a pot of tea. Ron served everyone, and they dug in. The trifle was delicious, but Harry had to concentrate on not spitting out his tea while Draco rubbed his hand up the inside of Harry’s thigh.

Ron took a bite of trifle and said, “So Draco, what’s the timeline for responding about the Potions Mastery? When do you have to let them know?”

“The hard deadline is July 15, but I can tell them as soon as I know,” Draco said. “We should have our N.E.W.T. results well before that.” Draco’s eyes flitted over to Molly and Arthur, who were each stifling a yawn.

“Yes, that’s same timeline as for Wizarding Law,” Hermione said primly. “Harry and Ron are the ones who have to respond by the end of the month. I hope the N.E.W.T. scores come quickly so that we have plenty of time to search for flats and decide where we want to live.”

Molly yawned. “No rush there, dear. You can stay here as long as you like. You can Floo to Oxford from here, of course. No need—” she fought another yawn, “to cut your options by rushing.”

Arthur’s eyes closed and he forced them open. “Mollywobles, we better get off to bed. We can’t keep up with these young ones anymore!” He chuckled.

“Yes,” Molly said around another yawn, “I just need to clean up first.”

“Don’t you worry about that, Mum. We can clean up,” Ron said. “You clearly need some rest. Off with you!”

Molly placed a kiss on Ron’s head. “What a sweet boy you are.” Arthur grabbed her hand and they headed for the stairs, yawning all the way.

Harry grabbed the spoon for an extra serving of trifle. “This trifle is really good!”

Draco reached over and grabbed Harry’s wrist. “Wait. You need to make sure you don’t get some with whatever they put in Molly’s and Arthur’s.” 

Harry looked up at Ron and Hermione, who were doing their best to look innocent.

“You _did_ just _drug_ your parents,” Draco asked with a raised eyebrow. “I didn’t imagine that?”

“Just a quarter dose of Dreamless Sleep,” Hermione said with a grimace. “They won’t even know. And we’ve made pudding and are cleaning the dishes. It’s a win-win.”

“What?” Harry cried. “Why?!”

“Mate,” Ron said seriously, “Don’t you want a few hours with Draco?”

Harry’s mouth dropped open. “Well, yes, but…”

Draco leaned forward and stretched his arm ostentatiously around the back of Harry’s chair. “That is illegal, Granger. I can’t believe my eyes! Aren’t you supposed to be upstanding _war heroes?!_ ” 

Hermione placed her tea cup down with a bit too much force. “Need I remind you that we successfully robbed _Gringotts,_ Draco? Our penchant for rule-breaking is the reason we’re all here right now. Remind me some time to tell you about the time I set Snape on fire.” Her eyes sparkled. “I am certain it will be fine. It won’t even last the whole night. Besides, it has been three weeks since I have had sex, and we have to draw the line somewhere. _Honestly.”_

Harry laughed and covered his mouth with his hand. “You—” he stabbed his finger in the air towards Hermione, then Ron. “You two are bloody geniuses!”

“Yes, yes, all hail Gryffindor,” Draco drawled. “Shall we sit here chatting about it?”

“Merlin, no,” Ron said, jumping up. He glanced at his watch. “What do you think, ‘Mione, we have two hours?”

Hermione glanced at the clock. “Yes, let’s get this stuff cleaned quickly.” She turned to Harry and Draco. “Don’t you two even _think_ about sneaking off until you’ve helped us clean up the kitchen.”

Harry held his arms up defensively. He was still chuckling, mouth agape. “I bow down to you. I will do whatever you say.”

“Well then, levitate the plates into the sink.”

* * *

Ten minutes later, after a flurry of inexpert kitchen cleaning spells, Draco and Harry bounded up the stairs to Draco’s room, closing the door behind them.

“Hermione,” Draco kissed Harry’s neck, “Granger,” he kissed Harry’s collarbone, “really is the brightest witch of our generation.”

“Stop talking about ‘Mione,” Harry gasped, pushing Draco towards the bed. 

“Gladly,” Draco said, pulling Harry’s shirt over his head. “Merlin, Harry,” he said, dropping his mouth to Harry’s chest.

Harry moaned and pulled Draco’s shirt off, landing chest to chest. “You are so….” Harry trailed off, unable to finish his sentence as he stared at Draco’s bare chest.

“Eloquent, Potter,” Draco teased, unfastening Harry’s trousers as Harry reached between them to divest Draco of his.

“You really should study the English language so you can come up with more words to describe my—” Draco never finished his sentence, because Harry covered Draco’s cock with his hot mouth. “Nnnggh,” Draco moaned.

“Who’s eloquent now, Malf—” Harry began, but Draco grabbed Harry’s head and pushed it back to the task at hand. 

“That feels amazing,” Draco gasped as Harry grabbed his hips and pressed his tongue around Draco’s cock. Harry pushed Draco’s cock into his throat and swept his tongue around, pressing hard. Draco moaned and thrust his hips forward into Harry’s mouth; Harry didn’t try to stop him.

But then, Draco breathed, “Stop!”

Harry stopped. “What’s wrong?”

Draco, out of breath, smiled. “I just want to kiss you, and get your pants off.”

Harry nearly tripped in his haste to get his pants off. “Happy to oblige,” he said with a crooked grin. 

Draco grabbed Harry’s shoulders and pulled him down roughly, his lips meeting Harry’s in a desperate kiss. “Mmm, ah, do the lube spell.” 

Harry let go of Draco’s hips to grab his wand, and soon his slippery hand found both of their cocks. Harry gasped. “Merlin, fuck.”

“Ahhh, yes, Merlin, fuck, I quite agree,” Draco breathed. Draco reached one hand to tangle in Harry’s hair, pulling backwards lightly to expose Harry’s gorgeous brown neck, which he licked, drawing another gasp from Harry. His other hand grabbed Harry’s gorgeous arse. 

Harry’s hand stroked them together, their nerves igniting in a haze of deep, hot, heavy pleasure. “You,” Harry said, sucking Draco’s earlobe into his mouth, “you.”

Draco smiled, arching his back and thrusting into Harry’s fist. “Come, Harry,” Draco whispered, and he didn’t have to ask twice. Harry moaned, and his release soon covered Draco’s cock.

“Merlin,” Harry said, holding himself up on his hands and taking a deep breath. But before a few seconds passed, Harry grabbed Draco’s cock and wanked it, using his hand to get the bulk of the semen off, wiping it on the sheets. Then he covered Draco’s cock with his mouth, sucking intently and moving his head up and down the length. He could taste himself, and one might think that’d be weird—but it somehow was just even more hot. Draco tasted like _Harry._

“Circe, Harry,” Draco gasped, “I’m going to come.”

Harry hummed his consent, the deep vibrations going through Draco and pushing him over the edge. Draco groaned, and Harry swallowed, licking Draco clean.

Draco propped himself up on one forearm to look lazily at Harry. “You look like every wanking fantasy I had for all of sixth year.”

Harry laughed. “Really?”

“Yes, though actually you look even better now. Eighteen, almost nineteen, suits you even better than sixteen. Those wanking fantasies were the only good thing about that hellish year,” Draco said with a sated smile.

Harry flopped down on top of Draco, pushing the air out of him. “Umph!”

“I like that you thought of me,” Harry said with a smirk.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Of course you do, you arrogant Gryffindor prat.”

“Hey,” Harry said. Draco raised an eyebrow. Harry waved his hand to indicate their current surroundings. “No curse.”

“I told you there wasn’t a curse.”

“How much time do we have left?” Harry asked, grabbing his wand to cast a Tempus.

“A little over an hour,” Draco answered.

Harry rolled onto his back next to Draco, his arm falling over his eyes. “Ok, give me ten minutes and then you can fuck me. Or I can fuck you. I’m not picky.”

Draco laughed, his eyes eager but betraying the tiniest bit of nervousness. “Harry Potter,” he said in a mock-female voice, “I want you to fuck me.”

Harry groaned. “How long will it take before you stop citing that _awful_ fan mail?”

Draco smiled. “Easy—I will never stop citing it. Especially when it’s so apropos.”

Harry moved his arm and opened an eye. “So you really want me to fuck you?”

“Merlin, yes. If you can. It’s only been a couple minutes.”

Harry leaned over Draco. “Draco, I’m 18. Also, I’m Harry Potter. Some git once told me the rules don’t apply to me. I could probably go again right now, but let’s give it another couple minutes.”

Draco waved his hand, smacking Harry lightly in the face. “Maybe you should use some of that famous Harry Potter moxie to start getting me ready for the next go.”

Harry grinned. “We have 70 minutes,” he said as he settled himself between Draco’s legs.

Draco pulled his legs up. “Merlin,” he moaned, fisting the sheets with one hand and pinching his nipple with the other. 

A moment later, Draco spoke. “Harry.”

Harry stilled his fingers and looked up. “Hmm?”

“Fuck what anyone will say. Let’s get a flat together. We can have this all the time. And not just _this._ ”

Harry’s face broke into a brilliant smile. “Yes. Yes. Wouldn’t that be nice?” 

Draco moaned as Harry pressed inside him again.

**Author's Note:**

> If you sympathize with Harry and Draco's predicament, go check out the Beach Boys' "Wouldn't It Be Nice?," which is where the title comes from. :)


End file.
